One Bad Day
by ArgentNoelle
Summary: Batman has a cold.


I wrote this a while ago. For some reason I read it again and decided to upload. idek

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Batman had the sniffles, that was all. Nowhere near bad enough to prevent him from doing his— _achoo!_ —sworn duty to the city… Bruce Wayne grimaced as the man he had been stalking stopped short and looked around, drawing out his weapon. He froze, blending expertly into the shadows. Crouched down and with his cape around him, the shape of his figure was broken up, unrecognizable as that of a man. There was dead silence in the alley, though from outside it there were the sound of cars moving and sirens going past. A minute passed, and then another. Batman counted five minutes before the man finally relaxed. At last, he shook his head and began to turn around. Batman gave a mental sigh of victory, and then— _achoo!_ —the man whipped around, pistol out.

"Show yourself!" he said. "Do it now, or I'll shoot!"

Batman leaped out of the shadows, wings flared, and the startlement was enough that he could get his hands on the gun and knock the man out cold. Batman stood above the still form on the alley floor and groaned. This had taken weeks to set up, and now the gang would know he was onto them. Even if he managed to find the warehouse they had been using, it would be cleaned out by the time he got there.

"Damn it!" he said. So maybe it had been a bad idea to go on patrol when he had a cold, but this chance couldn't be passed up. And now he had blown it. He raised his hand and grappled out of the alley and onto the rooftops, resigning himself to going straight home and getting into bed. He just couldn't be bothered tying up a man for the police when they wouldn't find anything to hold him for any length of time. But then the radio feed in his suit crackled to life. _Report—there's a hostage situation with the Joker!_ There went that plan.

By the time Batman had gotten there, the news had begun repeating the same information the police feed had said, but with much more panic involved. Batman silenced that network for the moment—it was giving him a headache, and he needed to concentrate. It was never a good idea to fight the Joker when he was off his game, but he couldn't let innocent people be endangered either. The place the Joker had taken control of was a small diner with an 80s theme. The colors were bright and the whole place still managed a sort of sinister cheerfulness, despite the situation. Batman resented it instantly. The lights were on and through the windows he could just catch a glimpse of the patrons huddled behind the bar, hemmed in by the Joker's goons standing about them with loaded guns. The Joker himself seemed to be talking to a pale-faced young woman dressed in a waitress's uniform. She wrote on a small pad with shaking hands and scurried off behind the bar, past the guards and through the swinging steel doors into the kitchen. Batman swooped down into the street and walked up to the diner door. As if he had known, Joker looked up and smiled, meeting Batman's eyes, and the only warning Batman had was a vague a feeling of unease as he pushed the doors open. Then a pie came catapaulting towards him and landed smack on his face. Batman ducked belatedly and heard the tin clatter to the floor. Through the whipped cream he could still see the confetti that fell lazily down from the ceiling. He wiped his face and stood up. For a moment, the only sound in the diner was the song playing on the speakers. Then Joker started to laugh, and Batman lunged forward—going after the henchmen first as Joker didn't seem to be in the mood to attack. He dealt with them fairly quickly, and when all were either knocked out or tied up he turned to the Joker, who was sitting at the bar and spinning on a stool, his feet swinging, and watching him with interest.

"Do I still get my order?" he asked, and the waitress came out of the kitchen with the food.

Batman stared him down as the waitress noticed the changed situation and faltered before finally setting down the plates. She cast a quick and frightened glance at Batman as she did. "Do you think you could get me a towel?" he asked. The girl stared at him. He gestured the remains of cream pie on his face.

The Joker watched her as she left back into the kitchen. "She's not bad," he said. "A little hard of hearing, maybe—I had to repeat my order!—but she got it down. Didn't faint or anything."

Batman sank down onto a stool beside the Joker and put his head in his hands.

"You feeling okay?" Joker asked.

"I have a cold," Batman muttered thickly. "I lost the guy I was trailing. I was just going to go home and then _you_ showed up."

"Sorry," the Joker smiled insincerely. "If I'd known your plans I would have rescheduled." He picked up his fork and stared at it for a moment, then at Batman. Batman took the knife. Joker shrugged, and dug into his omelette.

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End file.
